Seyeo, Zaze
Rows upon rows of compact, identical concrete buildings lined the shabby and narrow street in one of the many slums in Seyeo, the capital city. There was not a patch of green in sight, only never ending dirty buildings dotted with tiny windows. The street was long, bordered by tall buildings, and scarcely any people were in it. Those who were hurried about their lives, paying no attention to their mundane surroundings. In the doorway of one apartment a man slowly made his way down the narrow steps, clutching an ancient and and battered bicycle as though it was a precious artefact.
Watching over the street from a small third floor window a young woman in about her mid twenties stood leaning against the sil, her face lit up by the light coming though the window, the only source of light in the sparse, almost empty room, what little furniture it had was worn and old showing signs of years of wear, the only decoration in the room were two small pictures hanging proudly on the dirty whitewashed wall. Two faces, one of the Eternal President Choi Kang-Dae, the other of his son Choi Hyun-Su, looking much younger in the picture than he now was. She broke free of her reverie as Small footsteps pattered across the bare stone floor as her son, who couldn't have been older than five years, entered the room beaming, clutching a small blue backpack.
“Come on” She smiled, helping her child with the backpack and walking to the door, stopping for a moment waiting for her son to catch up, glancing around as she waited. Catching sight of a small envelope that had been pushed under the door she stooped down, picking it up and turning it over. Roh Min-Young, her name, her letter. She opened the small envelope and withdrew the folded paper. A letter from her husband who had joined the People's Army.
“What that?” She looked down at her child, his eyes fixed on the letter in a mildly accusing way.
“It's a letter from Daddy” The child's face lit up as his mother handed the letter down to him, he grabbed it eagerly squinting at the text tracing his finger carefully along each letter as he shakily read the letter out loud, stumbling over the words.
“He going to shoot up the Esulobakians? Bang! Bang! Make them run away!” with a few more excited cries he ran out the door, closely followed by his mother.
It was only a short walk from their apartment to the school but as they made their way down endless identical streets they gradually became busier, the roads wider, the buildings slowly becoming neater, less run down with the occasional tree or patch of green breaking the grey monotony. A few cars were even seen their colour black or dark blue, each one the same.
“Sing along,” Min said cheerfully as the small school building drew closer “The pathetic Eslovakians kneel on the ground, they beg for mercy...” Dutifully her son echoed the little verse, singing along right up until the gate of his school where he left his mother standing at the gate waving, watching her child enter the school building before turning away and walking onwards to the train station which would take her to the textiles factory where she worked making coats.
---
Seyeo underground train network
The train rattled along the Seyeo underground, the largest train network in any Zazean city and one which the people looked upon with pride, the main station in central Seyeo was a large underground structure, decorated to show the supposed wealth of socialism and the great patriotic victories of the people. The trains themselves were large and roomy the insides panelled with wood, at the end of each carriage the two images of the eternal president and his son hung on the wall illuminated by the flickering light of the one working lamp, the same two images seen in every person's house no matter how poor or remote. On one of the green cloth covered wooden seats min sat staring into the middle distance only just hearing the patriotic songs playing from a speaker, punctuated by announcements in a cheerful voice telling the travellers on the trains the achievements of the state and of the glory of the dear leader while also giving snippets of news and motivational speeches.
”These are hard times, we have too little of everything but in our fields, factories and places of work we have a steadfast belief if victory, that is why you go cheerfully to work each morning! Your hearts must be ready for combat, here the battle is fought by you. This morning too you all march on to the battlefield of your destiny!”
The end of the announcement signalled the beginning of a new song just as the train rolled to a stop at the next station the people filtering out onto the platform, decorated with a tapestry depicting the glorious people's revolution and the grand victory over the imperialists.
---
Inside the textiles factory
Rows of identical tables filled the large square room, the large windows not casting enough light to fill the whole room, leaving the centre and far end in shadows. On each table were piles of fabric and an old-fashioned sewing machine, each one operated by a woman in identical uniforms of red jackets and a red hairnet. On the front row close to the centre of the room min sat patiently behind her machine, making a few last checks before the floor-man stood up microphone in hand to adress the workers who all stopped their fidgeting to listen.
“The Production process is about to begin, we are now going to check the equipment, Check the machines, check the controls,” A rustle of activity among the workers as they all made sure their machine was working properly “Yesterday I was given the tast we must now perform. The task is two hundred coats, yesterday we made less than one hundred, we must work harder. All comrades must do their best and stick to the task so that se may meet her compulsory minimum” With those words he made his way over to a large back tape player, turning over the small white cassette and pressing the button marked play. Crackling communist patriotic songs rang out through the room where the workers had already started their daily activity...
Sunday, 18 April 2010
Tuesday, 7 July 2009
ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE- Last Gasp of Empire (Tyrrhenian Region off site forum)
NOTE: In my opinion this is my best post to date.
Mir, Sälitz
A pattering of light rain sounded loud as a drum roll as it tapped its watery dance on the roof of the a sleek, black car following close behind it was another, not quite as elegant but still impressive vehicle, as they wound their way through the ancient streets of the city of Mir, it's rain-soaked buildings looked dark grey though the tinted windows. Occasionally other cars would pass, small, shabby old fashioned things, and people who would turn and stare at the streamlined machines, so out of place in this backward nation. Something from another time which it may as well be as the whole country was decades out of date, trapped in the mid 20th century.
The cars took another turn down an identical grey street, the another into a large square an ornate fountain in the centre. There were more people here and a few more cars the stares intensified, the expressions on the watchers faces ranging from curious to hostile to frightened. The buildings around the square looked neater than the shabby things they had previously seen and on the far end of the square was a wide, stone two story building the flag of Sälitz waving from a pole on the roof and several yards of grounds before it, this was the Prince Electors palace and the final destination of the foreign car. It pulled up to the gate where two guards stood to attention clutching weapons that had not been used in more modern nations since well before the turn of the century. One of the guards held a hurried conversation with the driver of the first car then both of them opened the gate to allow them through, the cars started up again and silently passed through and up the drive the guards closing the large iron gates behind them.
When the cars came to a stop outside the palace nothing happened for a moment, outside the gate people watched curiously, not knowing what to expect. The doors of the second car opened and four soldiers came out, far better equipped than the guards two of them took up positions on either side of the palace doors staring straight ahead, expressions blank, weapons held in a way that suggested to anyone watching that they would not hesitate to us them if the need arose. The remaining two soldiers had taken up positions flanking the first car. The first person to leave the car looked to be in his late 40s, his black hair streaked with grey his face beginning to show the years. He wore the uniform of a high ranking officer though he had not been on active duty for some time, working mainly in politics. This man was Rupin Khilnani, Governor-assigned to Sälitz and technically the countries de facto ruler, although he reported back to the President back in the homeland. The second person to leave the car was older than khilnani, in his 60s, he stood shorter than the Governor-Assigned and wore small oval spectacles, he had the look of an old professor, he was Masun Bari, the governor's aide and second in command. The two of them made their way to the palace, the soldiers on either side though always three steps behind them. As they passed though the doors of the palace the two men stationed outside followed them in.
The palace's interior was far more impressive than its bland exterior, the walls panelled with polished wood which, had the sun been shining, would have glowed a rich, warm mahogany colour but on this grey, overcast day there were no such colours. Khilnani stood in a large square office which he had chosen as his own staring out of the rain-specked window at the city below. Such a bleak place it was, its buildings alternating seemingly randomly from old and crumbling yet charming to plain concrete monstrosities that would not look out of place in some Communist hell hole, so much different to the modern metropolises that made up Fictions' major cities, he sighed and turned away from the window, what he wouldn't give to be out of this cold, wet, grey country. He had accepted the position of Governor-Assigned to Sälitz because he was one of the only people qualified for the job who spoke German but even then there had been some debate that perhaps he would not be the most suited for the job. Khilnani was a nationalist, he had been an officer in the military until he had been taken off active duty when he had lost a leg and had to have a prosthetic one put in its place, this had not stopped him he had left behind his military career and pursued an active career in politics and was known as something of a radical right-winger, who, in the best traditions of Fictions nationalism had a strong dislike for foreigners. Still, if this was to be the counties newest province then he would made absolutely sure these people knew were left in no doubt as to who was in charge, even so the soldiers that were even now arriving and being stationed in various cities and towns were under strict orders to be civilised, respectful and had been warned that unnecessary violence would be met with severe punishment, possibly execution depending on the circumstances and the current Prince-Elector was a local man, a mere puppet, a figure head with no actual power, he and everyone else knew who was really in charge, who the country really belonged to and who would be holding the place with an iron fist.
Outside the study two soldiers stood guard, their gaze did not even move as a group of people walked briskly up the corridor speaking in low tones a slightly angry inflection.
“-they did not even bother to say when they would arrive just turned up and-” they went silent, as they were about to step through the doors into the study the foreign soldiers moved in front of them, blocking their path.
“Excuse me! let us pass this instant!” the man in front, slightly better dressed than the others exclaimed in tones of outrage, the soldiers did not move or speak. One of the other men stepped forward and spoke, this time in English.
“We are here to meet with the 'Governor' and you will let us through” someone the man manage to convey the inverted commas in his voice, but whatever effect he had intended did not seem to have been picked up on.
“Leave your weapons out” The soldier who spoke looked straight ahead, the group bristled slightly, yes a few of the carried pistols for protection, but in these times of crisis you needed them.
“We have every right to bare arms, these are dangerous times and we will not go unprotected”
“Arms yes, weapons no. Leave them out or you do't go in” There was a brief pause while the group tried to decipher what had just been said. Reluctantly, the people who had been carrying weapons for protections handed them to the soldiers who, when they were quite certain that them men had been disarmed, stood aside to let them through.
Khilnani did not say a word or stand up from the desk he was sat at when the group of around five or so entered the office, he had been expecting them and was not at all surprised to note the less than happy expressions on their faces. Nearly a full fifteen seconds passed after they entered before Khilnani spoke, his voice was clam, though his German was heavily accented.
“Good evening, gentlemen, may I offer you a drink?”
“Now see here-”
He did not listen but rather took out seven cups and prepared drinks, offering a glass to everyone before taking one himself and giving the last remaining one to an old man who no-one had noticed thus far, he took a slow sip of his drink, his slow clam actions seemed to baffle and irritated the already flustered group. He lowered his glass and looked at the man who had spoken.
“No, you see here, when you invited our country to be in charge you accepted that things would be done our way, your former government is now merely a puppet and you know it, you agreed to it, you askedfor it” He paused noting with some satisfaction the stunned expressions on their faces, though he had kept his voice level and had barley spoken above a whisper it had carried the same effect than if he had shouted. After a few seconds pause he spoke again
“Now, which one of you is the Prince-Elector”
The one who had made the initial outburst, the one who was better dressed than the others, stuck his chin out defiantly
“I am”
The foreigner fixed his dark eyes on him for slightly longer than was comfortable and he shifted slightly on the spot then stood up and walked around the desk, they could not help noticing he had a limp and one of his legs seemed unnaturally rigid.
“There are some things we need to discuss, come, walk with me, the rest of you, my colleague will fill you in on our plans” He did not wait for a response but made his way to the door, the Prince-Elector stood frozen to the spot for a moment then as though awaking from some kind of dream followed the man out of the room.
The two walked down the quiet halls of the palace, neither of them spoke as they passed windows, doors, paintings and tapestries. Finally, the Price-Elector broke the silence
“What needed to be said that could not be said in-front of the others”
“There are just certain political matters that need to be discussed, and as price-elector you are the best man to do this” A general statement that gave nothing much away, Khilnani stopped without warning, the prince-elector walked a few paces before realising that he was walking alone, he turned and looked around, the man was staring at a painting.
“That is Vatagio's 'St. Ambrose and the Dove' it was found yesterday after being lost for the last two centuries”
Khilnani said nothing, it was only just beginning to dawn on him that this county, though barley a few days old and seemingly trapped in the last century, had years worth of history, culture and tradition, and if there was one thing a Fictonian respected it was tradition. Yes, this country was to become their latest province but, and here he felt surprised at this new and unexpected thought, there was no reason why they could not retain some of their old identity, within reason and as long as it did not spark dissenting thought.
“Tell me more about Paloni, About it's History”
The elector seemed surprised at first then, cautiously started to give an account on the history. The foreigner seemed interested and asked questions, which surprised him as he had always thought that people from Fictions here xenophobic, narrow minded bastards who couldn't care less for the heritage of other nations. When he had finished speaking they both stood in silence for a moment.
“What do you intend to do with the country?” They started walking again, this time it was Khilnani who spoke the most as he explained how the country would first be taught to accept them as their new rulers, assuring him that the people had nothing to fear unless they became violent, then they would work towards making Sälitz a more modern and efficient country. He did not mention what would happen if the people even dared for a moment to question Fictional rule.
Mir, Sälitz
A pattering of light rain sounded loud as a drum roll as it tapped its watery dance on the roof of the a sleek, black car following close behind it was another, not quite as elegant but still impressive vehicle, as they wound their way through the ancient streets of the city of Mir, it's rain-soaked buildings looked dark grey though the tinted windows. Occasionally other cars would pass, small, shabby old fashioned things, and people who would turn and stare at the streamlined machines, so out of place in this backward nation. Something from another time which it may as well be as the whole country was decades out of date, trapped in the mid 20th century.
The cars took another turn down an identical grey street, the another into a large square an ornate fountain in the centre. There were more people here and a few more cars the stares intensified, the expressions on the watchers faces ranging from curious to hostile to frightened. The buildings around the square looked neater than the shabby things they had previously seen and on the far end of the square was a wide, stone two story building the flag of Sälitz waving from a pole on the roof and several yards of grounds before it, this was the Prince Electors palace and the final destination of the foreign car. It pulled up to the gate where two guards stood to attention clutching weapons that had not been used in more modern nations since well before the turn of the century. One of the guards held a hurried conversation with the driver of the first car then both of them opened the gate to allow them through, the cars started up again and silently passed through and up the drive the guards closing the large iron gates behind them.
When the cars came to a stop outside the palace nothing happened for a moment, outside the gate people watched curiously, not knowing what to expect. The doors of the second car opened and four soldiers came out, far better equipped than the guards two of them took up positions on either side of the palace doors staring straight ahead, expressions blank, weapons held in a way that suggested to anyone watching that they would not hesitate to us them if the need arose. The remaining two soldiers had taken up positions flanking the first car. The first person to leave the car looked to be in his late 40s, his black hair streaked with grey his face beginning to show the years. He wore the uniform of a high ranking officer though he had not been on active duty for some time, working mainly in politics. This man was Rupin Khilnani, Governor-assigned to Sälitz and technically the countries de facto ruler, although he reported back to the President back in the homeland. The second person to leave the car was older than khilnani, in his 60s, he stood shorter than the Governor-Assigned and wore small oval spectacles, he had the look of an old professor, he was Masun Bari, the governor's aide and second in command. The two of them made their way to the palace, the soldiers on either side though always three steps behind them. As they passed though the doors of the palace the two men stationed outside followed them in.
The palace's interior was far more impressive than its bland exterior, the walls panelled with polished wood which, had the sun been shining, would have glowed a rich, warm mahogany colour but on this grey, overcast day there were no such colours. Khilnani stood in a large square office which he had chosen as his own staring out of the rain-specked window at the city below. Such a bleak place it was, its buildings alternating seemingly randomly from old and crumbling yet charming to plain concrete monstrosities that would not look out of place in some Communist hell hole, so much different to the modern metropolises that made up Fictions' major cities, he sighed and turned away from the window, what he wouldn't give to be out of this cold, wet, grey country. He had accepted the position of Governor-Assigned to Sälitz because he was one of the only people qualified for the job who spoke German but even then there had been some debate that perhaps he would not be the most suited for the job. Khilnani was a nationalist, he had been an officer in the military until he had been taken off active duty when he had lost a leg and had to have a prosthetic one put in its place, this had not stopped him he had left behind his military career and pursued an active career in politics and was known as something of a radical right-winger, who, in the best traditions of Fictions nationalism had a strong dislike for foreigners. Still, if this was to be the counties newest province then he would made absolutely sure these people knew were left in no doubt as to who was in charge, even so the soldiers that were even now arriving and being stationed in various cities and towns were under strict orders to be civilised, respectful and had been warned that unnecessary violence would be met with severe punishment, possibly execution depending on the circumstances and the current Prince-Elector was a local man, a mere puppet, a figure head with no actual power, he and everyone else knew who was really in charge, who the country really belonged to and who would be holding the place with an iron fist.
Outside the study two soldiers stood guard, their gaze did not even move as a group of people walked briskly up the corridor speaking in low tones a slightly angry inflection.
“-they did not even bother to say when they would arrive just turned up and-” they went silent, as they were about to step through the doors into the study the foreign soldiers moved in front of them, blocking their path.
“Excuse me! let us pass this instant!” the man in front, slightly better dressed than the others exclaimed in tones of outrage, the soldiers did not move or speak. One of the other men stepped forward and spoke, this time in English.
“We are here to meet with the 'Governor' and you will let us through” someone the man manage to convey the inverted commas in his voice, but whatever effect he had intended did not seem to have been picked up on.
“Leave your weapons out” The soldier who spoke looked straight ahead, the group bristled slightly, yes a few of the carried pistols for protection, but in these times of crisis you needed them.
“We have every right to bare arms, these are dangerous times and we will not go unprotected”
“Arms yes, weapons no. Leave them out or you do't go in” There was a brief pause while the group tried to decipher what had just been said. Reluctantly, the people who had been carrying weapons for protections handed them to the soldiers who, when they were quite certain that them men had been disarmed, stood aside to let them through.
Khilnani did not say a word or stand up from the desk he was sat at when the group of around five or so entered the office, he had been expecting them and was not at all surprised to note the less than happy expressions on their faces. Nearly a full fifteen seconds passed after they entered before Khilnani spoke, his voice was clam, though his German was heavily accented.
“Good evening, gentlemen, may I offer you a drink?”
“Now see here-”
He did not listen but rather took out seven cups and prepared drinks, offering a glass to everyone before taking one himself and giving the last remaining one to an old man who no-one had noticed thus far, he took a slow sip of his drink, his slow clam actions seemed to baffle and irritated the already flustered group. He lowered his glass and looked at the man who had spoken.
“No, you see here, when you invited our country to be in charge you accepted that things would be done our way, your former government is now merely a puppet and you know it, you agreed to it, you askedfor it” He paused noting with some satisfaction the stunned expressions on their faces, though he had kept his voice level and had barley spoken above a whisper it had carried the same effect than if he had shouted. After a few seconds pause he spoke again
“Now, which one of you is the Prince-Elector”
The one who had made the initial outburst, the one who was better dressed than the others, stuck his chin out defiantly
“I am”
The foreigner fixed his dark eyes on him for slightly longer than was comfortable and he shifted slightly on the spot then stood up and walked around the desk, they could not help noticing he had a limp and one of his legs seemed unnaturally rigid.
“There are some things we need to discuss, come, walk with me, the rest of you, my colleague will fill you in on our plans” He did not wait for a response but made his way to the door, the Prince-Elector stood frozen to the spot for a moment then as though awaking from some kind of dream followed the man out of the room.
The two walked down the quiet halls of the palace, neither of them spoke as they passed windows, doors, paintings and tapestries. Finally, the Price-Elector broke the silence
“What needed to be said that could not be said in-front of the others”
“There are just certain political matters that need to be discussed, and as price-elector you are the best man to do this” A general statement that gave nothing much away, Khilnani stopped without warning, the prince-elector walked a few paces before realising that he was walking alone, he turned and looked around, the man was staring at a painting.
“That is Vatagio's 'St. Ambrose and the Dove' it was found yesterday after being lost for the last two centuries”
Khilnani said nothing, it was only just beginning to dawn on him that this county, though barley a few days old and seemingly trapped in the last century, had years worth of history, culture and tradition, and if there was one thing a Fictonian respected it was tradition. Yes, this country was to become their latest province but, and here he felt surprised at this new and unexpected thought, there was no reason why they could not retain some of their old identity, within reason and as long as it did not spark dissenting thought.
“Tell me more about Paloni, About it's History”
The elector seemed surprised at first then, cautiously started to give an account on the history. The foreigner seemed interested and asked questions, which surprised him as he had always thought that people from Fictions here xenophobic, narrow minded bastards who couldn't care less for the heritage of other nations. When he had finished speaking they both stood in silence for a moment.
“What do you intend to do with the country?” They started walking again, this time it was Khilnani who spoke the most as he explained how the country would first be taught to accept them as their new rulers, assuring him that the people had nothing to fear unless they became violent, then they would work towards making Sälitz a more modern and efficient country. He did not mention what would happen if the people even dared for a moment to question Fictional rule.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)